


i think there's a fault in my code

by septiceyesweetheart



Category: Antisepticeye - Fandom, jacksepticeye
Genre: Blood, Death, Heavy Angst, Other, Suicide, knife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-14 23:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septiceyesweetheart/pseuds/septiceyesweetheart
Summary: "Can anybody hear me?"





	1. am i talking to myself?

Jack didn’t know where he was. Well, physically he knew. He could see his office, the camera that had run out of battery, the ring light that was still flickering ominously, the screen of his monitor indicating that he he been recording for the last hour. The thing is, he couldn’t touch any of it. He couldn’t get up to see what was wrong with the light. He couldn’t go to the monitor to look back at the footage he had no recollection of recording. Was he dead? Had he finally snapped?

No, he would have seen his body on the floor or lying on the table. Jack was in his own body, he just couldn’t move. Deep down, he knew what it was, but he wanted to go with every rational option before reality hit him.

Panic was starting to go through his… system. Maybe he was dissociating, it had been happening a lot more recently, but he was never this aware of it. Maybe he was experiencing some weird form of sleep paralysis. He had definitely been seeing scary things go bump in the night, and that was just putting it lightly. This felt like his mind and body had split completely.

That thought made a lightbulb go off in his… head? He had split entirely, lost control of his physical self. He was torn away from his body. He was still in it, but he didn’t have physical control. What worried Jack, though, was the entity that was actually in control.

“I… am… here…” Those words were spoken before. A quiet whisper in his ear that started as mild intrusive thoughts, to a low growl that was heard in nightmares. Except it wasn’t a growl this time. It was Jack’s own voice, coming out of his mouth. That was even more unsettling.

“What did you do?” he wondered, but he couldn’t feel himself say it.

“We switched,” Anti explained, sounding sinisterly giddy with his host’s voice. “You were so miserable, so unstable. It made my job that much easier. I am in control now.”

Jack felt like he could have been sick. He remembered feeling the sharp blade cut across his throat. He remembered doing it himself, finally giving into the darkness that had been looming over his shoulders over the past month. Jack thought he had died. It was all a hallucination provided by his inner demon, the last one he could handle before he fell apart completely. It was the hallucination that unhinged him.

Not that he didn’t feel any better now. The helplessness doubled over, the jitters and shakes were there mentally. He felt so disconnected and lost.

He could only watch, like he was in a first person shooter game, as Anti got up from the chair and left the room. What could he possibly do now that he was in control of Jack’s body? What kind of hell would Anti bring others that he brought to his host?

“What are you gonna do?” Jack was probably better off not knowing but he didn’t have much choice here.

“No spoilers,” Anti replied, walking down the stairs to the living room. He stopped at the door and peered inside. There, sat on the sofa was Signe, who was waiting for Jack to be done recording. Surely she would notice how quiet it had gotten and go find him at some point.

Jack went from zero to a hundred. “Don’t you fucking dare!” If he had arms, he would have aggressively pulled Anti away from the door, but all he could do was yell. “Get the fuck away from the door! You’re not laying a fucking finger on her! Get away!” 

Just as he said that, he took a step back. Not Anti, Jack. However, as soon as the realization hit, the control was gone.

“I won’t harm her,” Anti angrily whispered, “but things have to look normal for now.”

For now. That wasn’t reassuring in the slightest.

~

“Sleep is for the weak,” he said. “I hate sleep,” he said. Granted, these things were still true. Jack didn’t sleep anymore. He didn’t have any physical being (that he was in control of at least) that could feel tired. He was just there. When he imagined never sleeping again, he didn’t see it happening like this.

Jack could only watch as Anti lived out in the real world. It was painful, seeing him act on camera, edit videos with Robin, continuing his relationship with Signe, and interact with the community. No one seemed to notice that anything was off. No one could tell that it wasn’t Jack they were speaking to. Anti was ridiculously good at this.

“Don’t you remember? We’re the same…” the devil himself reminded him.

“You don’t deserve to talk to any of them,” Jack said resentfully, watching the computer screen from his secluded area in what was now Anti’s head.

“Maybe, but that doesn’t stop anyone. Look at how much they adore me. They worship the ground I walk on. They never want me to leave, and I don’t plan to.”

If Jack had a spine, a chill would go down it. So help him god, he was going to find a way out of this.

Anti scoffed. “Have fun with that.”

“Even when it’s switched, you’re still in my head,” Jack said, feeling vulnerable once again.

“Am I? Or are you simply in mine?”

Jack almost missed when he didn’t know who was in control, because in the end it was usually him. He’d rather have that than have this whole other entity take over. But what could he do? No one could hear him, no one knew who they were really talking to. 

At the same time, it worried him that everything was going so normally. Anti was pretending to be Jack, and he was doing it well. The channel remained consistent, the community was relatively normal. It was so ordinary that it scared Jack; this was the calm before the storm.

~

Oh, and calm it was… for about two days.

Jack thought the nightmares and hallucinations were bad. The fact that he was trying to convince himself that this was another one of those while Anti was stalking a girl for three blocks with a knife in hand practically screamed that this was too damn real. He had never grown aware that they were only hallucinations until they were over and he was back in bed, safe and sound. Jack had no idea what “safe and sound” meant anymore.

“Please don’t,” he said helplessly. “Please… you got what you wanted, you’re out in the real world… please…”

Anti had been quiet since he had decided on a victim. Clearly, he wasn’t going to listen.

“If you’re going to attack me, just do it!” called the girl ahead. She had stopped in her tracks, but she didn’t turn around.

No, please… run. Save yourself.

“You knew I was following you?” asked Anti as he tilted his head. Clear as day in Jack’s voice. It felt so wrong.

“Ya got loud footsteps,” the girl replied, finally turning to reveal herself. She didn’t appear to be afraid or anxious. “Now, are you going to fucking assault me, or what?”

“No, no, get away from here!” Jack yelled. “Please, for the love of god, go away!”

Of course, only one person heard him.

“You sound excited about that,” Anti spoke out in the real world.

“It’s not everyday some fucking stranger with green hair stalks you on your way to the bar.” She still sounded bitter. “Mind you, I just got fired, my family refuses to talk to me, my only friend moved out of the fuckin’ coun-”

It was quick. With one swish of the blade, the girl’s neck split open and spurted out blood onto Anti’s wildly grinning face. Then, he shoved the knife into her chin, making the end stick out from the bridge of her nose.

And suddenly, Jack was looking into the girl’s wide, terrified eyes. He was in control of his hand, which was clutching the knife. His scream of terror was stuck in his throat, his eyes were wide and welling up. He stayed frozen where he was standing until he felt the warm blood leak onto his hand, and then he snatched it away. The girl went limp and fell forward, practically landing in Jack’s arms.

“No!” he cried out. “No, no, no, no, no!”

He managed to lay the body down in the grass. Then he dropped down to his knees and retched. This was a thousand times worse than the nightmares. Jack was trying to talk himself into believing that this was some type of hallucination. He was actually lying in bed. He watched one too many horror movies and was now having a vivid dream. This is all it was.

“I don’t think so,” Anti growled in his ear. “Get the knife and run! We can’t stay here!”

“Fuck you, fuck off, get out of my head!” Jack loudly replied.

“Don’t be weak, Sean! We need to escape!” That wasn’t in his head. To any witnesses, it would have looked like he was yelling at himself.

Suddenly, his hand reached for the blade still stuck in the victim’s head. He yanked it out of the wound, getting more blood spattered on his clothes and face. Anti growled, pointing the tip of the blade to his heart.

Jack used everything he could to point it away. He could feel his control slipping away, he couldn’t let this happen. He could hear screaming that wasn’t his own, more bodies were falling dead on his hands. People he loved were ending their own lives.

“It’s not real,” he told himself, rapidly shaking his head as he fell back into the grass, managing to throw the weapon aside. “It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s - not - real!” He hit himself in the head with his fist with every word.

But what if it was? What if his friends and family hung themselves or threw toasters into their tubs? What if one of his viewers slit their wrists because they knew Jack was a monster? What if he told them to do it? Jack couldn’t live with himself… maybe he deserved a knife to the heat. Maybe it all had to end.

Then, all he was seeing was the night sky. He tried to move his fingers, his toes, any part of his body, but to no avail. He had lost control again.

His body sat up, looking around to find no witnesses.

“Good,” Anti said in conclusion as he retrieved the knife and went his own way, leaving the girl’s body to be discovered.


	2. you can't wake up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I think there's a fault in my code."

After Anti had his fun, it was hard to get back into the swing of things. Sometimes, Jack would find himself staring ahead before he remembered that he could control his limbs again. He should have been relieved that Anti had gone silent, but this kind of quiet was the skin-crawling type. It was the silence that left you with anticipation. Jack couldn't let his guard down anymore.

He was tense, very tense. Signe would always point this out and then try to relax him with a massage. It wouldn't help. Relaxing meant letting your guard down, and letting your guard down meant Anti. All it took was once for Jack to never want anything to do with that guy ever again.

Sleep still evaded him. He told Signe he was doing video stuff, which wasn't technically a lie. But she had been getting suspicious lately. Jack would cross that bridge when he got there.

In the meantime, he sat at his computer, obsessively searching for, well, anything. “How does demonic possession happen?” “Signs you're possessed.” “Hallucinations vs possession.” His hands never stopped shaking, his eye never stopped twitching. It was like an automatic response to things like this.

Schizophrenia. Maybe that was it. Jack wasn't exactly religious, so anything about demonic possession in mental illness meant nothing to him. But still, he read the symptoms.

“Attraction vs. aversion to religion.” Again, he wasn't religious. Demons want nothing to do with it either.

“Rational vs. irrational speech.” He liked to think he was well spoken. He could usually get his point across without any difficulty. However, his stomach turned when he read that untreated schizophrenics often speak in nonsense.

“The claim to be possessed.” Anti never revealed himself during the time he was active. Jack never told anyone either. According to this page, untreated people with schizophrenia or psychosis didn't realize they were ill. Fucking shit.

He read on, not feeling particularly reassured by this article. He quickly went onto another page, not realizing how short his breathing had gotten despite that he could hear it right in his ears. There was another list of symptoms, but again, they were connected to things that happened in the Bible.

“Fear and depression.” More like he was petrified and practically broken. He wasn’t the same anymore.

“Unhealthy obsessions.” Does his work ethic count? Jack's need to remain consistent on YouTube did cost him some things. Opportunities, family events, anniversaries…

“Compulsive cutting or self mutilation.” That brought him back to the last one. Since Anti left, Jack had been scratching at his arms as if he were itchy. It was unconscious at first, but then he started scratching in other less conspicuous places, like his thighs or his stomach. He'd scratch until the skin was red raw. Then he made the decision to stop biting his nails. Now he couldn't stop until he drew some blood. He wasn't bothered by it, he just had to see it.

The rest of the symptoms fell together. “Physical and mental health problems.” “Racing thoughts and mental torment.” Signs were pointing to possession. This wasn't something wrong with his brain. A supernatural being of his own fucking creating was living in his head. He created a monster.

“Sean?”

He was so focused on the screen that he yelled out in terror. He instinctively hot to his feet, knocking over the lamp on the desk in the process. His heart was racing, for a second he thought he was hallucinating again

Then it processed in his mind who was at the door, and he turned to face her.

Signe was in shock, needless to say. She was about to ask what was taking him so long, but then she looked down at Jack's arms and her eyes widened.

He didn't realize he had been scratching at himself. Droplets of blood were trickling down his arm. He didn't know what to say. Anti was still silent.

~

“I'm not sick,” he mumbled. “I'm nuts… psycho… mad…”

Jack was in bed, fighting off the medication he had been given. After Signe found out what he had been doing to himself, she immediately took him to the hospital. Jack was placed under various psych tests, one of which involved a brain scan. Nothing indicated schizophrenia or any form of psychosis. The doctor just diagnosed him with depression and sent him home with some meds. That, and now Jack had to see a psychiatrist every so often.

But anyway, the medication was making him drowsy. The doctor deemed that Jack's lack of sleep had caused the delusions of paranoia.

However, there was a fucking reason he didn't sleep anymore. All he could think of was being stuck in his own mind, letting his guard down, and letting Anti come through again. All he could see were the people who crossed Anti’s path, all dead and lying together in a pile. The worst part was that those were actual people, dead on his hands.

“Where did you go?” Jack wondered. “What made you run away?” His eyes were drooping, his body was relaxing. Oh no…

Jack was in an all too familiar road. It was as dark and empty as that night. He could see the girl walking ahead of him. He could feel the knife in his hand. The only difference was that he was in control of his body. Not this again.

He started walking, dread filling his system, a weird static filling his ears. He knew where this was going, and even in his dreams, he couldn't stop it.

When that was done (still as gruesome as the first time), he had to go on to the next one. He could feel himself hyperventilating, he kept trying to stop himself but it felt like he was just floating. It was like he had lost control all over again.

The next one was a teenage boy. Just as unaware as the last victim. He was leaning against the wall, typing on his phone. Jack could feel himself sobbing as he threw the knife from where he was standing. It sink right into the boy's head, and he fell over, dead on impact.

That wasn't enough. Jack ran over and pulled the blade and then repeatedly stabbed the boy's neck and chest. Every splat of blood on his face was just as vivid as when it actually happened. 

Then there was a group of drunk girls leaving the bar. Jack approached them, just like Anti did that night. The girls giggled and exchanged glances, then one of them pointed out that Jack was “famous.” He wanted to take the knife into his heart just from hearing that.

One by one, he took them out. Slit two throats. Stabbed one through the chin, up into the nose. Took one by the heart. And the one that recognized him? Decapitated, left the body in the dumpster. As for the head, he left it on the street, and use the surrounding blood to trace a circle around it and a little tail. He had never been able to look at his own logo the same way ever since.

And then, he hear it. That soft but sinister laugh right in his ear. Jack froze in fear, still clutching the weapon.

“Don’t you know how to greet an old friend?” the voice was like the static he was hearing.

Jack turned and was face to face with… himself? Except, the green was darker and the eyes were pitch black. This was the first time he was seeing Anti as a separate entity.

“You never fail to amaze me,” the devil spoke. “You’re aware that you’re dreaming, I wasn’t even here half the time, and yet, you still murdered those people.”

“I couldn’t control it!” Jack argued. “You made me this way!”

Anti grinned and tilted his head to the side. It was like he was entertained by his host’s humor. No, wait. He definitely was.

“Why did you do this?” Jack asked, his blood beginning to boil. “Why me?”

Anti faded away, just like smoke, that grin never faltering. It made Jack even angrier, he yelled for Anti to come back. He ran around, looking for this fucking entity. He ran until he fell to his knees, and then he coughed.

He spat out blood, and he couldn’t stop. He felt himself choking and sputtering, he felt it rising in his throat. His eyes began to water, but when he rubbed at them he just found more blood. He started to panic. He screamed. He threw up more…

And then he sat up in his bed, gasping for air. Jack was shivering, but he was sweating profusely. He was breathing heavily and his heart was racing. The room was dark, putting him more on edge. How long was he asleep for? Did his body stay in bed, or did Anti try anything?

Jack put his hands over his face, only to realize just how sweaty he was. He looked down at found that the sheets were mildly damp, so he stood up and stripped the bed. His body was still trembling, even when he tried to occupy himself. He dropped the bed sheets and left the room. 

“You’re awake!” called Signe from the end of the hallway.She approached Jack, watching him carefully. “Feeling any better?”

“Bathroom,” Jack responded, but he felt like he was miles away.

“Why are you all sweaty?” she asked. “Did you have a bad dream?”

He didn’t remember what he told her before he shut himself away in the bathroom. Like before, the silence was nerve wracking. It felt as if he wasn’t there, like his soul was fading away, and all that was left was his beating heart.

His body was on autopilot as he went to turn on the sink. He splashed some cold water in his face, only to see it run red. Jack immediately took a step back, his heart racing. His hands were soaked, as was his face. This couldn’t be happening again. What did he have to do to make this nightmare end?

“Stop it,” he told himself. Then he started smacking his head with his fists. “Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it. Not real, not real, not real, not real.”

Static was ringing in his ears. It was slowly raising in volume, getting louder and louder to the point where Jack was covering his ears. He tried to yell over the noise. Then he punched the walls and yanked at his hair, trying to make himself heard. He just wanted this to stop. Why couldn’t it end?

Suddenly, the static was gone. All Jack could hear was persistent knocking on the door, and Signe’s worried voice. Jack was somehow sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall.

Anti may not be present, but that didn’t mean that this was over.


	3. awake me from my nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "All I know is that I don't feel safe."

If Jack was anything like how he used to be before Anti, he wouldn't be doing this. He would have kept this separate, he would have tried harder to get through it without worrying anybody who watches the channel. But he couldn't stop himself until it was done. And he had to work fast.

He didn't set up the lights or his monitor. He just turned on the camera and sat in front of it. For a while, that was all he did. Well, that and absentmindedly itching at his arm and side. It's not that he couldn't think of what to say, it was just hard having to talk about any of it. He had an excruciatingly difficult time telling Signe, and even she didn't believe it entirely. There were going to be major consequences either way. He had to do this now.

“If you're watching this…” he trailed off, but then he looked down. “God, I don't even know how to talk to you guys anymore. Well, hi, it's me. Jack. Or Sean. It's actually me this time, not the guy who's been pretending…” He paused and rubbed his hands over his face. “Some of you are gonna think this is an act.” He let out a small laugh of disbelief. “The one time I show how I'm actually feeling, and some of you will think it's fake. Some of you will call me out on it. And when it wasn't me on camera, when it was that… that guy… you all thought everything was fine. Not one of you - not a single fucking one - seemed to realize that it wasn't me. The one time I needed you guys…” Jack sat back in his chair and scratched at his other arm. He had to make a point somewhere.

“I'm, I'm going away for a while,” he announced. “Things in my head… I… that guy you've been seeing on the channel… since, I don't know, a few months ago up until last week… he's the reason for it. I don't know what to do about him anymore. Everybody around me thinks I'm sick. Maybe I am.” He let out another spiteful laugh and pointed to his temple. His arm came into view, showing the healing scratches on his skin. “He just told me that I'm letting myself believe that… because it makes logical sense. But nothing about him is logical. So maybe it's not an illness. Fuck me, right?”

It was incredible that things had gotten to this point. That Jack was so out of his mind that he was rambling out nonsense in front of his camera, and it wasn't the usual nonsense. The circumstances were severe this time. It was so different; Jack had lost control of everything. At least, by making this video, he could have control one last time.

“I feel like...” he continued, “I feel like I'm at the point where I don't even know if I'll get better. And you know me, I was never one to give up or back down. But this… with this thing living in my head, I don't think I can do it. And I'm not saying that so you guys can tell me otherwise, I don't want that from you guys. You all should have known from the start… maybe then, at least one of you could have known how to help me. Maybe I wouldn't be like this now…”

Jack could feel Anti’s weight on his shoulders. He could feel the storm clouds forming above his head. He just wanted it to be over.

“This might be the last you see of me,” he said. “I love you guys, even if you weren't there for me. Even if you helped create this monster.” He laughed again, but it quickly turned into crying.

Enough was enough. Jack got up and turned off the camera, tears still streaming down his face. He moved quickly, knowing Signe wasn't going to stay asleep for long. Jack shoved his memory card into the computer and anxiously waited for everything to load.

Where he was going, he didn't really know. It was some sort of psych ward, and he knew he would be cut off from everything. He didn't know how long he was going to be there for, or if it was even going to help. It was like Anti said, nothing about this was logical. Jack wasn't sick. Then again, why should he believe a demon? He didn't even believe in demons! What if he just wanted to murder those people? What if he was just a bad person?

“Racing thoughts,” Anti spoke, “you're showing one symptom of many disorders. Keep going, let's see what they diagnose you with.”

Jack wanted to scream at him out loud. He grit his teeth, pushing buttons on his keyboard and went straight to YouTube. He didn't even edit the footage or watch it back, he just hit upload.

Static began to buzz in his ears again. He sighed, balling his hands into fists, like he was trying to hold on to reality. He shook his head, trying to snap out of it. That helped, and the static noise went down, only to be replaced with the cold, spine tingling voice.

“You don't even need me to go crazy,” Anti said. “That's no fun.”

“Can you just go then?” Jack responded out loud. “You've already caused enough damage.”

“Oh, but it's so nice up here…” he cooed. “...up here in your head. Where I can see what makes you tick… all your weaknesses. As long as I'm up here, you're mine.”

Jack groaned in annoyance. What did he have to do to get rid of him?

“Talking to things that aren’t really there,” Anti went on, “that’s another symptom.”

“So you’re not real?”

“I didn’t say that.”


End file.
